Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Silent Greeting

Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Silent GreetingLawrence Alma-Tadema A Sculptor's Model detailLawrence Alma-Tadema A greek womanLawrence Alma-Tadema A Female Figure Resting
When Dolohov and Yaxley rejoined the circle, Voldemort looked up.

"No sign of him, my Lord," said Dolohov.

　　　Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.

"My Lord ---"

　　　Bellatrix had spoken: She sat closest to Voldemort, disheveled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed.　　　Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight.

　　　Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination.

　　　"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come."